Obsessed
by AMYCULLENCRUSHED
Summary: Bella; Insomnia. Innocence. Intelligence. Killing is her obsession. "I see it all. Opportunities, weapons... alibies." But what if she meets an equal? Edward Cullen; Intelligence, insomnia and a killer smile. "No weapon seems good enough for you." AH ExB
1. Preface

_This is a product of my own insomnia._

_To my readers; I love you._

_And I give you my preface;_

* * *

It's amazing how a shadow knows nothing of the body it's reflecting.

It hasn't got a mind, nor a will. There's no creativity. Though, nor is there independence. It's stuck to you. It knows nothing of the person it belongs to.

A shadow could care less for your happiness; you're joy. Isn't that unfair?

It's a part of who you are. It's a part you're ignoring; you don't give a crap about your shadow.

But you will.

The moment it's taken from you.

Darkness. I'm momentarily surrounded by it. As I have been. Every night lately.

The weight of my back is on the wall. My throat is dry and aching. My eyes are on the floor. My hands in my hair and the last bit of dignity and control I have is slowly fading out of me. Which leaves me drowning in self-pity.

Insomnia.

Oh, how you will see the world as a different place.

It's so typical. I had it all planned out. My high school, college, job, marriage, kids.

I would stay with my parents until I was 21. Then I'd buy myself the biggest apartment in London. I'd get married at 28 and I'd get three kids. I'd be the rich. I'd be happy.

But then this. This place I'm in, this ache in my throat. My mouth was dry, constantly. My eyes were only looking for possibilities. I saw a rock. Oh, the ideas I had with a simple rock.

The sight of human drove me crazy.

My body immediately launched itself at the object of my temporary obsession. My… prey.

You have to understand. I couldn't help it. My feet were carrying me. My body wanted nothing else but to satisfy the burn. It hurt so bad.

But my mind had other plans.

My feet stopped and I collapsed to the floor. I couldn't take it. What was I going to do?

I couldn't stop this… this bloodlust.

I was a killer and I fed on victory.

The hunters obsession.

Try 'n stop me.

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_Review _\/


	2. Second preface

_ This is only a second preface. Nothing big. Just a slight look in the girl's sadistic mind._

* * *

_I may look happy,_

_But honestly dear,_

_The only way I'll really smile,_

_Is if you cut me_

_Ear to ear._

_**Chelsea smile – Bring me the horizon.**_

* * *

The silver of the knife broke through the skin. My eyes focussed on the lovely, defined line of crimson red. How beautiful this man's blood flows. How easily his veins drain.

He was so annoying. So unknowing. Mike Newton, the little sun of a-

"Why?" he managed.

I'm surprised he even knew how to speak. His unintelligence was comparable the unintelligence of a monkey.

"If you want to keep those lovely lungs of yours, I suggest you don't talk."

* * *

It's such a shame the entire world believes everything they hear. Just mindless puppets. You could make them believe anything with the slightest acting skills.

_Mike Newton. Cause of death; suicide._

As if.

I whistled happily as I walked down the dark streets. The air smelled like a big city after a storm. The only people left were people with night lives. I saw couples, walking home after a nice dinner for two. I saw criminals, eying me; considering me. Oh, how I wish they would follow me. Their bloods smells like victory. I saw cops, driving around in their cheap-looking cars, trying to look impressive and dominant. I saw cars, transporting people with late night shifts. I saw one little girl, holdings hands with her parents. How that little girl reminded me of myself.

And of course; in the windows; the mirrors, I saw me. Teenage girl, walking through the night, obviously not belonging to the big city.

"What's your name, beautiful?" I heard one of the drunk men call after me. I believe he was bald, with a big tattoo. "Why don't you hang out with us a little?"

It would be my pleasure to 'hang out' with them, if it weren't for the fact that they annoy me with their stupidity and that me 'hanging out' with them wouldn't end happily… for them, obviously.

"Don't bother asking, sir." I answered. "I'm walking on my own tonight."

There, I warned him.

I heard footsteps behind me. Too fast. He was running. The idiot. I felt his hand, too warm and sweaty, on my shoulder. His breath smelled like cigarettes and Jack Daniel's whiskey. The slightest smile formed on my lips.

"It's not save for a little girl to walk around town in the middle of the night." He announced.

"Nor it is save for such a mutt, such as yourself, to put your hands on me… sir."

I heard a barky laugh. "I don't want to hurt you, beautiful. My name's Paul. Pleasure to meet you, but, girl, go back home. This city is filled with bastards like myself."

What a friendly guy. His face was red-brownish. Native? His clothes were too tight and his friends were booing at him.

"Thank you for the warning. Now let me return the favour. Go home. Don't ever meet me again. This place is filled with dead bodies; the product of boredom from a bastard like myself."

I turned and walked. Through the window of a restaurant I saw a young, love-struck couple looking at me with concern in their eyes. I love big cities. How easy they attract unsuspecting victims.

"Damn, that was one feisty lil' thang."

Poor Paul.

* * *

**_ Review, coz you do NOT want this girl to come after you._**


	3. How to become what I became

_I felt really evil today. _

* * *

_So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff!  
Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough.  
So give them blood, blood, blood.  
Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood!_

_**Blood - My chemical romance**_

* * *

Sometimes I wonder how I became what I've become. My childhood was normal. No traumatizing experiences. I've never faced death, outside of some relatives I could hardly say of they existed at all. My mom didn't hit me, nor did my dad rape me. They both hugged me, they both cared for me. The small town I lived in, everyone knew me. I was never teased, always accepted.

I guess I'm born this way.

And more than enough people fall for it. I mean, fourteen. Such a sweet smile. Such a fancy vocabulary. The blonde hairs falling down my neck are perfect in combination with my bright blue eyes. My speech is perfect. Fair skin. My eyes, my hair; perfect. Nearly all of my clothing are proper enough for church. Sick, twisted mind-

Oh, wait. That wasn't a good thing.

Though, when I was little, I enjoyed killing creatures below me. Ants, for example. Bugs. Small animals, stupid enough to walk right into my trap. When I grew, my preys grew. Birds, the occasional squirrel.

I went to Australia last year, in the summer, with my family. There, I saw a scorpion. I read that scorpions can't stand alcohol. I decided to test that theorie. After I closed in the animal with rocks, I sneaked back into the hotel and took a tiny bottle of Russian Vodka from the minibar. I don't know if my parents ever found out. I went back and poured in over the little animal. It lost it's mind and stung itself to death. I never had a better holiday since.

But when I got old enough, animals walked away from me. They have a sense for danger.

I respected them for that. I left them be.

And then I moved to the big city; where the people were just as stupid as the animals. I didn't need traps as they would find me without. I left people from college alone. Also married people, people with kids and smart people were spared. I think I was jealous of them. They had the life I always wanted.

I envied a lot.

When I was thirteen, I killed for the first time. His name was Jeremy. Not my type. I was neat, he was sloppy. I was quiet, he was outgoing. I was alone, he had tons of friends. I was secretive when he was the attention seeker.

But the most important difference was that I was smart and he was annoyingly dense.

We weren't in an argument. We were alone, and he wasn't talking to me, nor was I to him. I didn't even bother opening my mouth. I hit him with the skateboard he was so keen on. I remember the blood drops on the wall, the ceiling, my clothes. I burned him and any evidence. I saw police shows, I knew what they were going to look for.

They never found him.

"You're looking quite busy with an inner dialog." I heard a voice behind me. Carter. Always so perspective. He knew me too well.

"I'm just daydreaming." I told him. My smile gave me away.

"I know you're holding things from me." He told me sadly. His bright blue eyes allowed anyone to look into his soul. I guess it runs in the family. "I'm going to find out what they are."

"I suggest you don't, for I will leave when you make a slight attempt."

"Don't talk like that." He joked. "You always sound like a book from the early 1800's."

"You know I'm serious, Carter."

"You wouldn't leave. I'm your brother, and you love me."

Did I? I think so. I was always under the impression that love was a foolish sigh of weakness, but my brother… he was so alike me. And, maybe you've noticed, I am quite keen on myself.

"Have you slept at all last night?" he asked me.

"No, Carter. You heard me leave. Your bed is noisy, you turned when the door closed."

"Where were you?"

_I was out on the streets. There was a man who called me feisty and he annoyed me. I murdered him with the same gun I used when I murdered your ex-girlfriend._

"I knew I wouldn't get an answer to that. I don't know why you would bother staying over at my place if you get all sneaky. I think you slept better on your own bed. Y'know, _at home_."

I sighed. If only he knew.

I did, in fact, killed Paul and Irena with the same gun. Irena broke my brothers heart, and if killing her to make him feel better wasn't a sign of love, then I don't know what it.

I know I'm lying. I know it wasn't out of love. My hands were aching to shut her up. It was for the best anyway. There was nothing coming out of her mouth that made any sense to me. It was just: "Like, and like he said like; 'O my god!' and then I was like: 'I know right!' Nag nag, whine whine, whimper whimper. And then that disgusting mouth was on my brother, together with her gold-digging hands. I enjoyed her screams so much.

But you see, screams are easily muted. Bloodlust isn't.

* * *

I brightened the streets with my optimism, as I walked down the café were I first saw Paul and his buddies. I saw them again, night after night as I studied them, especially Paul. After four nights, I knew where he, his girlfriend, his parents and just about all of his mates lived.

His friends weren't there that night.

* * *

"_Tonight, on CNN, student Paul Black was found dead in his apartment. His partner found him with a gun in his hands. All the trails lead to suicide."_

Such a shame. I really liked that gun.

You have to understand, I'm not a monster. When I heard that I gave my mother a shocked look and said: "It's so strange that those things happen so close to us."

She just nodded. She usually did. So emotional. I saw the tears filling her eyes from where I was sitting.

"Mom, it's fine. You know the people who do that have troubles. They're sick."

_So_ sick.

* * *

**_Review, or my revenge will be this little girl._**


	4. Murderer of millions

_Sorry for the late update. Quite busy with life n all._

_Tip for the Dutch readers who are fans of these stories? Jan Wolkers; Gesponnen Suiker. Story 'Gevederde vrienden'_

_Enjoy fuckloads._

_She starts her new diet of liquor and dick,  
Just like Hollywood, but laced in sick,  
The sun goes down, and so does she._

_So clap your hands to the sound of every first born dying now,  
Watch the rivers turn to blood, death will stand where life once stood._

_Count your blessings, 'cause I'm counting every lie._

**_Pray for plagues – Bring me the horizon._**

* * *

Not even the constant singing and whistling of the wind could distract me today. It blew past my ear like a little sea breeze instead of a firm city wind. Because that is where I am.. again. I think I will spend the rest of my life in a big city such as this. It's almost too easy. The air is thick with the smell of death and they're not even perceptive enough to notice. It has this lovely sort of innocence to it.

Maybe innocence is the wrong word. Naivety? Simplicity? Inexperience. That's it. This city has seen nothing yet as it comes to cases like... myself. Murderers of millions.

Don't get me wrong; I am well aware of the fact that I cant kill every unintelligent person in the world, since it would leave just me and Ghandi, but I'm willing to leave the dumb people who live in silence alone. The one's that aren't on TV or the radio. They're in the movies that I watch, in the stories I read about. They're everywhere on the internet. It annoys me so. They should lock those people up.

The wind slapped me in the face and my thoughts are being sucked back to my surroundings.

Shoulders brush pass mine and apologetic faces follow. An everyday routine. Busy men and women yell for taxies, their hands safely surrounding their precious Starbucks. Though, I like the coffee myself, I refuse to drink it. Out of principle. It's become this cliché around the rich and successful, and though I find myself _very_ successful, I don't like finding myself back in stereotypes.

I like the feeling of just walking around the crowded streets and seeing that I'm _completely_ different than everyone else. This uniqueness. Originality. I respect the people who dare to show it.

Like the young woman, a few feet away. She's staring at me with such fascination and concentration; like you see someone, and you have a feeling you saw them before, but you can't quite put your finger on it. But that would be impossible, since I've never seen this girl before.

The first think I notice about her are her big, blue eyes. They have this strange sort of dullness, like there are slight clouds over them. But for a reason I don't know, it almost seems like she sees more than me. My eyes roamed over the rest of her face; the creamy blush of her cheeks, the crimson of her slightly pouted lips and the frown that rests stressfully between her eyebrows. Nothing out of the ordinary yet, except for her eyes, obviously. Her short, spiky hair was everywhere and her petite frame made her look fragile.

She was simply beautiful. And alone. Not a good combination in a city full of scumbags.

She was pulling a little suitcase behind her as her eyes pulled away from my own and continued to glance up and down; from the little paper in her hand to the sight of the city and back.

"Can I help you?" my voice asked before my mind noticed.

Her eyes looked me up and down before a polite smile appeared. "I don't think so, sweetie."

_I'm not sweet._ "I think I can. It looks like you're looking for something." I announced. "I know this town better than my own house. Let me help you."

The frown between her eyebrows grew. Did I just threat that girl?

"I'm looking for a piano bar. My cousin runs it. Me and my brother are visiting. I don't think you know it since it's deep into town. It's called.." she paused to look at the small paper. "The Madison Avenue piano bar."

I knew the little bar well enough to know that it's absolutely nothing for a girl like the one in front of me to be. It has vulgar employees that care about nothing but boobs, butt and beer.

"You know that place exists out of nothing but sex-driven people, right?"

"Ah!" She smiled contently. "You know the place! Show me the way, little stranger."

**

"How do you know this place?" The girl asked me. Her tiny finger pointed at the dirty sing of the dirtier bar. "It's only open at night. Plus, you're not old enough to go in there."

_I'm a complete insomniac, so at night, _"I walk past it a lot."

"You shouldn't walk around the streets at night, stranger." She told me with a serious expression on her pixie-like face.

"Neither should you."

"I wasn't planning on it." She winked. "I'm going inside. My family is waiting. Wish me luck."

"Why would I do that? It's your family. Is there a reason for me to wish you luck?"

There's the frown again.

"Ok, listen stranger. You treat the world like you're owning it, and everyone apart from you is retarded. That's not how it goes, and I assure you that your life would be a lot more fun if you let that attitude go." She told me. "And right now, I'm going inside. Don't walk alone out on the streets at night. Take a walk through the park, in the sun. Maybe it depends on what kind of people you're surrounded with. Because right now, you're only looking for the people you don't like, instead of those that you like. Goodnight, stranger."

And with a last, quick smile she slammed the door in my face and I was flabbergasted.

It wasn't because of the Martin Luther King sized speech. It wasn't because she dared to tell me as it was. It wasn't because she slightly bruised my ego. It was because this girl.. this tiny little pixie-like girl to whom I talked.. not once I thought about ways to kill her. Now that I thought about it, I saw a million of options and weapons and alibis, but none of them formed a perfectly fine scenario in my head.

This girl was different. She… changed me?

I think I know where I'm going tonight.

* * *

_**Seemed longer when I wrote it. Aw, hell. **_

_**Review!**_


	5. Badass bars and perfect pianists

_If you even had the slightest idea of all the excuses I have for this late update, you'd probably be surprised I updated at all. And blablabla *insert stupid excuses here*_

_Btw, read it on 1/2, it makes it seem a lot longer. (:_

_Enjoy fuckloads._

* * *

**Your reflection ****  
****Ghost of a beauty queen ****  
****Plagued with fashion ****  
****And stain our mouths with worthless deception ****  
****You're a plastic perfection ****  
****We'll burn you to the ground**

* * *

**THE MADISON AVENUE PIANO BAR**

the big sign at the entry said. The pavement was covered in spilled alcohol, half-consumed alcohol, empty bottles and.. people? Right. Drunk. The sick, toxic smell of sweat and vomit slapped me in the face, and suddenly it was three times as hard to breathe.

Vulgair. The frat guys, making complete idiots out of themself. The slutty girls, walking away (as far as I can call it 'walking') to get a trampstamp, I'm sure. It's not like they'll remember it in the morning.

I wasn't planning on walking away, though. I came here for a reason. I had to find that girl.

"Hey baby!" a drunk man yelled. Early fourties, obviously drunk, no ring around his finger, giant bulge in his pants. "What ya doin' up so late? It's _long_ past bedtime."

"Little stranger!" A wasted looking pixie yelled from the doorstep. "I _toooold_ you not to walk outside at night!" she slurred. Her eyes showed some sort of anger, maybe even worry.

"And I didn't listen." I answered. I know I sounded cocky, but I was almost disappointed with this girl. She didn't look like the getting-drunk-in-bars kind of person.

She flung her arm around my shoulder the moment I stepped into her reach. "Well, at least don't talk to strange, old or drunk people." _Yeah, I'll remember that. _"Come on in, stranger."

I knew I probably shouldn't, but I couldn't care less.

The place was gorgeous. The wooden floors, bars, stage. It made everything seem almost old and delicate. My brain was working at full speed, trying to take everything in. The way the pixie didn't seem to stop bouncing and spreading energy around the room, how the lights were nothing more like a disco than a piano bar, the _beautiful_ baby grand on the little stage.

But mostly, the even more beautiful man playing the softest tunes. I knew the song. I knew how to play it, and I knew that he wasn't playing the exact version. It's like he put a part of himself into it, like he was playing and improvising with a masterpiece, creating one of his own.

His hair was wild, and broze and I wanted to run my fingers through it so badly, it made my hand itch. His clothes were decent. Dark jeans, almost black. Grey button-up, upper two buttons open, enough to look laidback and enough to _not_ look like a Spanish salsa dancer. Rolled-up sleeves. Perfect. The finished the look with old, beat up chucks, making him look like an English schoolboy after school. It _looked_ like he hadn't drank anything.

And then his eyes flashed from the keys and found Alice'. He smiled and let his eyes move to mine.

O _god_. The brightest sort of emerald. It was like his eyes were cut out of diamonds.

Though, my eyes were drawn to the small frown between his eyebrows. Before I knew it, his eyes were yanked from mine (Violently. And it _hurt_!) and he stared at the other end of the bar. Then he gave a small nod.

I followed his eyes and saw a muscular man walking up to me. His big, brown eyes, that kind of reminded me of a puppy, were bubbly and friendly, but had something apologetic. He walked up to me, of course, could've known, and places a hand on my shoulder. I would've loved to push my nails in that hand. I would've loved to scratch his face open, and I'm sure my expression made that very clear.

"I don't know who let you in here, but you have to go." He said, firmly. His voice was low and deep and his tone was friendly. "You're not 21 yet. I'd happily drop you off at the end of the street, to avoid the people outside, but you _have_ to go."

He was already making compromises, while I wasn't even objecting?

With one last glance at the pianist, whose eyes were already glued to the keys, I turned to the big guy. "Yeah." I nodded. "Sure."

* * *

"_Isabella Marie Swan_!" Carter's delicate voice blasted through the living room, making me jump. "Where the _hell_ have you been?!"

"I was out." I responded. I was looking away from him; away from his worry and away from responsability.

"Do you have _any_ idea how worried I was?" his voice sounded sad, disappointed. "I can't take it, Bells! You drive me insane. I'm completely paranoid!"

"And what, _exactly_..." I started. I had to take a deep breathe. "do you plan on doing about that?"

His eyes were set. He made this decision and he thought it through. I already knew it, even before he said the words.

"You're leaving this appartment. And if you don't change yourself, you're leaving this city, too. I've already talked to mom and dad, Bella. One more mistake, and you're gone. All girls school. Youth facilities. You name it."

I was numb. They were going to put me in one building, with stupid people, dropouts and druggies?

"When can I go?" I grinned.

Hmm. Shouldn't forget the pocketknife I bought on our trip to Switzerland.

* * *

_Seriously. She considers this a fieldtrip. (:_

_Review!_


	6. Daughters, dates 'n dad

_Heya, updated. I've got "the kissing disease"._

_no, it's not an obsessive kissing disorder. It's pfeiffer disease._

_But eh, that kinda stopped me from updating, since I couldn't reach my laptop, since I couldn't... walk. Nor climb stairs._

_But here it is. _

_See ya'll at the bottom._

* * *

**Shake it off. ****  
****Pick yourself up, they say. ****  
****Your life fell apart in your hands, and you've got the scars to prove it. ****  
****It's not the first time, and they're getting deeper. **

**Pull it together. ****  
****Button up your shirt. ****  
****Roll down those sleeves. ****  
****Don't let them see how you've coped.**

* * *

"Now what have I told you?" Carter asked.

"Dad'll be here around 9. If I'm not here, I'm dead." I choked out, holding in laughter as I saw him combing his hair. "Straighten your tie."

"I know how to do this, Bells. I've been on dates."

"Not since disco died."

"Chicks dig the loose tie."

"They haven't 'digged' ties in general since disco died."

"Will you stop that?"

"Or else?"

He glared at me, but he knew he was right. He was already kicking me out of his house, what else could he do? Tell mom and dad I was laughing at him? I can't help it, the idea of youth facilities made me witty.

The doorbel rang. As Carter went to greet his new girlfriend, I heard him mutter something along the lines of "_I wasn't even around when disco died._"

Yep, his newest girlfriend. I was so curious. It's been almost a year since Tanya died... under strange circumstances. I had to trust him on this one, it would be too weird if two of his girlfriends died in one year. Though, it would be fun to make a stereotype serialkiller scene, where the victim ends up at the bottom of the ocean. But it would be easier to do what I'm doing.

Maybe that's why I can't seem to stop doing it.

"Who's this?" A surprised, girly voice sounded at the sight of me.

"I'm his daughter." I told her innocently. Carter walked in with the drinks, not hearing my exact words. "He hasn't told you about me?" I looked at him with mock anger.

"Oh right, yeah. This is Bella. She's staying over, but she'll be gone when we get back." He smiled at the brunette.

"You have a _daughter_?!"

"What?"

"And you're kicking her out because of some date?!"

"Why do you think I have a daughter?!"

"Well," I interrupted, again with mock innocence. "are you still a virgin?"

Understanding crossed his face. He glared at me, and then looked at his date apologetically. "Don't _ever_ believe a _word_ she says. She's evil." _For sure._ "She's my little sister."

"That's what you call me now?"

"_Shut up_."

"Are you going to introduce your date?" I smirked.

He fell silent. Was he nervous about letting me loose on his date?

Said date, who looked absolutely terrified at this point, took a shy glance at Carter before smiling slightly. "My name is Irena. Nice to meet you."

"Lovely to meet you." I said, with my most charming smile. "Where are you going tonight?"

"Madisons." Carter said, warily.

"The madison avenue? The piano bar?" I choked.

"Yes." Irena smiled. "You know it?"

"I do-" I started, but I was cut off by Carters "Of course not."

"You're just assuming that? You suck."

"You swallow."

"You disgust me."

"You're going to end up in a youth facility."

"You're going to end up in jail."

"You're lame."

"You're stupid."

"You're a smartass."

"Everyone is compared to you."

"See, there you go!"

"Are the words I'm using too big for you?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw Irena reaching for her glass and downing it. Oh joy.

"You're so annoying."

"Oh really? 'Cause right now, _you_'re annoying your date. I think you should go, dad's going to be here soon." I smiled.

Irena mouthed 'thank you' from behind Carters back and I winked. She was alright, I suppose.

Carters eyes moved from mine to Irena's and back to mine. "This is a conspiracy."

"Out of my sight, you people." I shouted. Carter walked over and kissed the top of my head before turning. I heard him opening the door for Irena. Then the door closed. I heard the elevator open and laughter and footsteps and sqeaking and then silence. I liked silence.

My father would be there in 30 minutes, so I did what was the only logical thing to do. I grabbed my keys from the counter and left the appartment, off to the Madison Avenue.

I told myself it was to keep an eye on my brother. But I knew I was lying. It was for that goddamn handsome pianist I couldn't stop dreaming about.

* * *

**_Bella's single encounter with Edward and Alice has already changed her, made her wittier and lighter, and she just.. doesn't notice._**

**_But she's still sadistic. :'D_**


End file.
